


The Hedge Maze

by TheQueensBlade



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Angry Cullen, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Coitus Interruptus, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford: Champion Pussy Eater, Cullen Smut, Cullen starts out a total ass and turns into a sexy motherfucker, Cullenlingus, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Jealous Cullen, Outdoor Sex, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueensBlade/pseuds/TheQueensBlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Cullen and his Inquisitor have never gotten along: he thinks Isolde is spoiled, vain and childish, and she in turn simply ignores all of his advice. </p>
<p>After all the political intrigue at the Winter Palace, he takes her aside to give her a piece of his mind - what happens in a corner of Empress Celene's hedge maze surprises them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (One thing I like to do with my fanfic is imagine new spaces in the spaces we're already so familiar with. Of course Empress Celene would have a Versailles-style hedge maze!)
> 
> Made a nice little Tumblr post with visual references to go along with the story, check it out:  
> http://thetemplarandtherogue.tumblr.com/post/139872216003/the-winter-palace-inspired-by-my-warning-canon

Commander Cullen Rutherford stood fuming on the edge of the Winter Palace’s elegant parquet floor, watching the Inquisitor waltz with yet another lisping Orlesian duke under a ridiculous mask. Isolde Trevelyan had changed out of the stuffy military uniform her advisors and companions were still wearing, trading it for a decadent burgundy silk ball gown with wide panniers that accentuated her trim waistline. The dress dipped low in the front, showing off the tops of her tempting tan breasts and she wore a heavy gold pendant around her neck, stamped with the flaming eye of the Inquisition. Her tinkling laughter floated over to him and it made him squeeze his sword hand shut, cracking the knuckles. That woman always made him grit his teeth in frustration.

_Once again,_ she had totally disregarded his advice to side with Gaspard, choosing instead to let Briala and Empress Celene rule over Orlais together. Isolde was very fond of taking someone else’s side over his. She was reckless, impulsive, emotional, vain, mouthy, haughty and sometimes downright childish, something Cullen credited to her noble background. He wondered what he had personally done to Andraste to land him in this position surrounded by powerful, beautiful women who often regarded him like a snorting druffalo that had barged into their tea party.

Isolde was turning gracefully on the dance floor, black hair sweeping across her bare shoulders when she finally saw his cold, dismissive gaze. Cullen smirked at her, more of a sarcastic snarl than an encouraging grin, and she snapped her eyes back to her dance partner, anger making her stand up straighter. The fake smile she had plastered on her face slipped a little, as Cullen’s amber gaze continued to drill into her. A feral hatred glittered in her stormy grey eyes as she looked back at him. Cullen swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it as the song came to an end. He skimmed around the dance floor to the far end where she was letting her partner bow over her gloved hand.

“A word with you, Inquisitor, if you can spare the time?”  
“Of course, Commander.” She turned to the idiot in the mask. “Our work is never finished, monsieur. Perhaps we can have that drink when I return.”

Cullen held his arm out so Isolde could rest her hand on his velvet sleeve and the two walked away from the party. They began sniping at each other when they were out of the earshot of little clusters of aristocrats sprinkled throughout the expansive hallways and salons.

“I knew you were going to berate me at some point, I suppose I should be glad you didn’t do it on the dance floor.”  
“I do not _berate_ , my lady. By the time you have made up your mind to cast an entire country into the arms of two simpering fools it is much too late to berate you about anything.”

They passed two women who flapped fans at them, cooing at Cullen.

“I do wish you’d change your mind and dance with us, Commander.”  
“I bet he’d even turn down the Inquisitor, stubborn, handsome fool!”

Their giggles followed them as Cullen guided her out a set of doors into the crisp night.

“Where are we going, Commander?”

Cullen wasn’t even sure, he just wanted to find some place where nobody would hear him yelling at her at the top of his lungs. How could she have been so stupid, Florianne or one of her devious agents could have killed her earlier in the night while she snooped throughout the palace! He stomped through the garden, pulling her along now, ignoring her protestations about ruining her pretty satin shoes and what the grass was doing to her underskirts. They came to the edge of the garden, to the entrance to Empress Celene’s ornate hedge maze.

“Come along, Trevelyan.”  
“Commander, I bet you a silver crown we get lost in this thing, and all because you couldn’t wait to get back to Skyhold’s war room to yell at me. Should we get Leliana and Josie? You do love humiliating me in front of my friends.”

They wandered deeper into the maze, Cullen listening for the sounds of other voices, perhaps from some lovers slipping away from the party for a quick tryst or some such secretive nonsense. He wouldn’t know, he had _berating_ to do.

He led her to the far north corner of the maze, near a pretty stone bench under an arch covered in twining ivy and purple flowers. Cullen could see Isolde’s jaw clench in the clear, bright bluish moonlight, the pretty baubles on her ears twinkled as she spat angry words at him.

“Alright, let me have it.”  
“You stupid girl, how could you chose those two – those two cows – over a competent chevalier and military leader!”  
“I have asked you MANY times to not call me a _girl_ in such a demeaning way! To begin with it is not insulting to be a girl – and even if I am a girl – you answer to _me,_ Ser. I am your leader, your Inquisitor. As I have explained hundreds of times, despite any decisions I make, you _must_ bow to them. Besides, I haven’t steered us wrong yet, have I?”  
“Oh let’s see. You picked the blasted mages over the Templars, mewling fools who have done nothing but gripe about their accommodations because they all secretly miss their pampered little lives in their Circles – “

Isolde narrowed her eyes at him – he knew this was a touchy subject, having been locked up in Ostwick’s Circle herself.

“You almost died at Adamant Fortress, you almost died fighting how many dragons now, four? Five? And every single person you have passed judgment against we now must feed and take care of because you don’t have the balls to swing an ax and behead someone who deserves it!”

Cullen stepped into her personal space, grabbing her near the elbow now. “You’re weak. You hide it all under your insufferable rich girl bullshit. I know you doubt every move you’ve ever made, late at night when you can’t sleep.”

Isolde was trembling, trying to pull herself away from him. Cullen was angrier than he usually was, but it didn’t seem to be specifically about anything that happened tonight. Isolde had no idea where all this – passion – was coming from.

“You don’t know what I think about at night, Ser. And it is none of your business. I am not weak, I am stronger than you are. I could raise my pinky and conjure a lightning bolt that would strike you down dead right here on the spot.”

“Did you just _threaten_ me, Inquisitor? I was wrong, you aren’t weak – you’re dangerous. You belong back in that prison in Ostwick – sucking some Templar’s cock in the corner of the library where you think no one can see you.”

Cullen’s words shocked her into silence, he had never said such – cruel, explicit things to her ever. She shuddered as he continued his tirade, his heated words making her skin tingle in a strange way.

“You _little mage whore_ , I suppose it is fitting Josie will raffle you off by the end of the night to one of these effeminate assholes. The man wouldn’t know what hit him when he realizes you are no virgin, the poor sodding fool. How many men have you taken into your bedchambers for the sake of _diplomacy?_ ”

Isolde tried to slap him, but Cullen grabbed her wrist, growling at her. She raised her other hand, pounding an angry fist on his chest, pushing and shoving him, but he grabbed that hand too. She tried to yank herself out of his doubled iron grip but found she could barely move, the man carried a heavy broadsword every day, she didn’t stand a chance.

“I hate you, Cullen. I’ve hated you since the moment I saw you outside of Haven. You are no gentleman, you’re just a common, crass, washed up ex-Templar, no different from the ones who used to whip me and keep me in chains. If given a chance to pass judgment against you I would not hesitate to put your head on the pike in _my_ courtyard.”

Cullen towered over her, the two of them breathing heavy from effort and rage. Something in the cool autumn air changed and got heavier. Cullen swallowed before he spoke again. “You almost died tonight, Isolde. Florianne wanted blood, not just Celene’s, but yours as well.”

His hold on her wrists grew a little softer. “I-I’m fine, Commander. I survived. I always do.” Isolde’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You worry about me too much.”

Before she could react, he had dipped his head and his lips were on hers as Cullen gave her a pleading, anxious, hungry kiss. Isolde felt his heavy hands now resting on her hips, squeezing her waist, making the tight whalebone corset creak a little. She was shocked, as though someone had knocked all the wind out of her body – and then her lips began to respond to his.

That was when Cullen took a step back, his face telling her he was as confused as she was in that second. A golden curl fell across his forehead and Isolde wanted to reach out and brush it back into place.

“I am sorry, Inquisitor. I don’t know what came over me. I apologize – for my terrible words and actions tonight, you are right - I am no gentleman. I suppose...”

He ran a hand through his hair and the gesture made Isolde feel something deep in the pit of her belly. “- I suppose I do not like Orlais very much. The Game makes me do funny things. If you will excuse me – “

Cullen turned to leave but Isolde squeaked out a protestation. “You cannot just leave me here in Celene’s bloody hedge maze, Ser. _That_ would definitely be ungentlemanly.”

“Of course, wh-what was I thinking? Let us return to the party, Inquisitor. You have a future husband to meet somewhere in there.”

She took a few tentative steps closer to him, reaching a hand out to the arm that he did not offer her. Cullen cleared his throat. “I am sorry, Lady Trevelyan. Perhaps it is best if, ah, if you do not touch me further.”

Isolde’s heart was pounding now as she caressed his forearm anyhow. “Why is that, Ser?”

“Because I will want to kiss you again.”  
“That would be fine with me, Commander.”

Cullen tore the gloves off his hands, casting them aside, and then cupped her face.  
“What are we doing, Isolde? I thought we hated each other.”  
“I don’t hate you.”  
“You just said you did.”  
“But I don’t.”

One hand left her jaw and he trailed his rough fingers down her neck, down her chest, between her breasts, until they stopped at her waist, pulling her in very close now. “I don’t hate you either, Isolde. You are too beautiful tonight, I have been – seething with jealousy – at every man who dares believe he could possess you.”

Cullen kissed her on the neck, before she felt his lips moving against her earlobe. “But I wish I could have you – I wish you were mine. I wish I could fuck you in the middle of that dance floor and show them all how a real man pleases a real woman.”

She gasped as his arms held her close and he continued nipping up and down her neck and then his lips were on hers again, opening her mouth, tasting her as though he were a starving man. Cullen pulled away, panting against her, savoring the taste of her. “Lemon cake and champagne. Mmmm.”

Isolde was now standing on her tip toes as she kissed him back, seeking his tongue in response. “Nevarran whiskey, and a bit of the cigarillo you had after dinner”, she murmured as he palmed one of her breasts.

Cullen pushed her back toward the stone bench in the corner, never breaking their messy kissing. He kept one strong arm around her as the other hand worked at the ribbons on the front of her dress, loosening them.  
  
“Blast your corset, woman.”  
“Cullen I want you, please.”  
“And I wish to take you, my lady…”

He felt her fingers grasp his hardening manhood right through his formal breeches as the two of them pawed at each other, groaning. Cullen managed to yank down on one of the cups of Isolde’s corset, freeing a breast from its little prison. “Fuck,” he hissed to himself, before his wide tongue darted out to lick a desperate path around her nipple. She moaned loud, digging her fingers into his shoulders. Cullen yanked down on the other cup of her corset, feasting his eyes on both her full breasts now. He had to hold her up with one arm as he moved back and forth between her nipples, sucking them first and then working just the sensitive buds with the tip of his tongue. Isolde felt herself getting wetter and wetter – who knew this serious man had such a sumptuous, pleasurable mouth?

Cullen leaned down, locating an ankle under her voluminous skirts and sweeping his hand up her inner leg, delighting in the feel of her silk stockings under his calloused warrior’s hands. He forced her legs apart, travelling higher and higher, keeping his forehead pressed to hers as he felt for her smalls, pushing them aside for more access.

“You are so incredibly – ready for me – my lovely Isolde…”

He worked two fingers around her swollen pearl, making her moan, looking at him through lust-heavy eyes. Cullen cursed himself internally – instead of griping and sniping and yelling and seething, they could have been doing _this_ the entire time _._ He could have fucked her against the war table in Haven, fucked her in her tent after Corypheus’s attack when she was freezing and needed his body heat, fucked her in her regal bedroom in Skyhold. He slid his middle finger into her womanhood, as his thumb kept stimulating her.

“Please Cullen, please, please please please.”

Cullen smiled as she begged him for more, her tits out, her lips tender and pink from his kisses. He dropped to his knees and struggled with her skirts for a moment. He got his fingers into the straps of her smalls and pulled them down her legs, making her giggle when he balled them up and threw them over the hedge wall, to Maker knows where. “You won’t need those for the rest of the night, I think.”

Cullen looked up at her and she was staring down at him in anticipation, her knees wide now. He yanked her hips to the edge of the bench and took a good look at her inviting cunt before getting to work. He used his entire tongue to lick her slit as she cried out in ecstasy. Cullen raised his head from her lap in alarm.

“Isolde! Shhh, someone is going to – “  
She grabbed two handfuls of his curls and pressed him back into place against her pussy.  
“I don’t _care_ , Rutherford. Eat my pussy, you stubborn fool.”

Cullen gave her a wicked, lopsided grin before he went back to lapping at her clit, his nose pressed against her mound, determined to make her come hard. Isolde threaded her fingers through his hair, thoroughly enjoying the sight of him down on his knees between her legs. She rarely got to enjoy herself, and it gave her a frisson of delight to realize that this man she had clashed with so many times desired her as much as she secretly had. Isolde gushed and grew wetter under his ministrations and she began to shake all over as his tongue flicked away, side to side, harder and more insistent.

“Fuck, you’re way better at this than you look.”  
Her teasing words only made Cullen’s tongue move faster. He kept one hand on her knee cap, holding her open, as the other hand worked his breeches open and removed his stiff cock. He pleasured himself while he pleasured her, until she threw her head back as her orgasm flooded her senses, and she released a long string of swears, a hand still holding his head down on her pussy as her hips twitched.

She went limp and fell backwards with a delighted giggle, landing on the soft grass behind the bench. Cullen crawled over to her, not caring that the knees of his pants were going to be covered in grass stains when they would have to reappear in the ballroom.

“Are you alright, my love?”  
“Oh more than alright, your tongue is – rapturous, Cullen.”

He positioned himself over her, a hand on either side of her head, bending down to kiss her so she could taste herself all over his lips.

“Isolde, are you sure you want this, do you want me tonight?”  
She reached up and ran a finger down his strong jaw. “Maybe I will want more than just tonight, when we are through. Cullen…”

It made his heart ache, the way she tenderly intoned his name, all their contempt for each other long gone now. He realized that every time they had fought, they had been engaged in a torturous kind of flirtation that lead them straight to this moment. He stared into her eyes, holding his stiff cock in one hand, guiding him into her.

Isolde pressed her head back against the grass with a satisfied sigh as they became one and he began to thrust into her gently. Cullen buried his face in her hair, breathing in the exotic scent of her as he rolled his hips against her –

“Inquisitor,” Cullen whispered against her lips.  
“Commander,” Isolde moaned into his mouth.

“Inquisitor?”

A third voice interrupted them and Isolde squealed, pulling Cullen down to protect her modesty as much as possible.

Cullen looked over his shoulder and found Josie and her little sister Yvette standing there, both their mouths wide open in shock. Yvette began to giggle uncontrollably as Josie yanked her into a hug, keeping her from looking at the couple on the grass any further.

“I- I can’t believe you two! You go missing from the party and, and, and – this is what you’re doing? You two?! Together!?”

Isolde felt a pang of despair – the spell was broken. What felt like the most romantic moment of her life was quickly crumbling apart, sending her plummeting back toward reality. The usual annoyed tone in Cullen’s voice returned as he snapped at the two women over his shoulder. “Could you give us a moment of privacy please? Maker’s balls, I’m constantly being tormented by infernal women.”

Josie guided her sister around the corner. “Cullen, I am _very sorry_. I shan’t say a word of this to anyone else, I promise.”

Cullen didn’t look at Isolde as he put one hand on the stone bench next to them and pulled himself out of her and off of her. He stood up and tucked his manhood back into his pants before turning to offer Isolde his hand, helping her to her feet. She tied up the front of her dress while he brushed the grass off himself, straightening himself out. After a little more preening and adjusting, they were back to being the people they were when they entered the hedge maze. Isolde made eye contact with him but the part of Cullen that had opened up to her only a while ago was gone. He was her Commander again, all hard edges, a stern glint in his eyes. It was enough to make Isolde want to cry on the spot, but he was already guiding her around the corner to the other two women.

“Alright, back to the ballroom. Somehow. Unless they have to send a search party for us.”

Cullen and Josie took the lead, leaving Yvette to lend Isolde her arm as they wove through the maze. Isolde stared at the back of Cullen’s head as he and Josie spoke to each other in a hushed tone.

“You should be very glad I found you and not Leliana. She’d certainly have something to say about – your fraternization. You are very much aware that we are trying to arrange Isolde’s marriage to the right lord? The Spymaster would accuse you of undermining her work.”

Isolde could not see Cullen’s face but every word he spoke was like a dagger in her side. “We are not – fraternizing. You caught us in a moment of weakness and that is all. I shall not disrupt your – intricate plans – for the Inquisitor’s future.”

It took them a few false turns before they found the entrance to the hedge maze. Isolde looked at it one last time before they went back inside the palace, already feeling an intense keening nostalgia for what had happened between those green walls, bathed in moonlight.

They made their way back through the party, Cullen tuning out the sound of the gossip and backstabbing, ignoring the compliments bandied toward him and toward the Inquisitor. He led the ladies back to the edge of the dance floor, where one of Isolde’s suitors was already waiting for her. Without a further word from him, Josie introduced Isolde to the masked duke, who bowed over her hand before they joined the other dancers.

Isolde looked over the man’s shoulder in time to see Cullen walking away to one of the balconies, a drink in hand. He did not look back at her, but each time she spun during the waltz, her eyes sought him out. She saw him strike a match and light a smoke, his face illuminated for a short moment by the fire light. Cullen turned to face the scenery – looking down on the maze below. She could not know his thoughts, it felt wrong to assume he was thinking about her and what they had almost done. Isolde started to panic, her corset felt tighter than it had all night. For the first time in her life, she realized it was possible she was not going to get something – someone - she wanted. Cullen’s words echoed back to her.

“… _a moment of weakness…”_

The Inquisitor fainted in the middle of the dance floor, her head hitting the floor with a disturbing thump.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plot. Some smut. Some angst. A nice layer cake. Thanks for reading if you're still reading.

Isolde opened her eyes and found herself lying under the ornate canopy of a sprawling bed, wide enough to fit at least six of her. Standing around her were the women who had accompanied her to the Winter Palace - Ambassador Josie, her fellow mage Vivienne, and the Inquisition’s formidable Spymaster, Leliana. They all looked down at her with concern as Vivienne’s magic crept through her head, looking for any damage she could heal. “My dear, how do you feel? You fainted dead away in the middle of the dance floor.”

“I dare say we have made quite the impression on the Orlesian court. They do love a good display,” Leliana said, a touch of jesting in her voice.

Isolde sat up, using a pile of pillows to support her. Her corset stays had been loosened, and she had a furious headache from her head slamming against the ground when she fell.

 “I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t hungry, or tired. I just felt the floor give out from under me. How long have I been passed out?”

Josie sat on the bed next to her, a satisfied smile on her face. “Not even half an hour. But I do have some very good news, Inquisitor, I meant to tell you before your accident. You have had three very eligible marriage proposals, all from men close to the Empress. Your pretty little fainting spell seems to have painted you as vulnerable – and very loveable.”

Leliana brushed some imperceptible lint off her sleeve. “Celene is requesting we stay on as her guests as her lords are allowed to court you. More parties, more dancing – the woman loves an excuse to spend money and be ostentatious and you have provided it to her.”

Isolde rubbed her temples in pain. “I would rather go home to Skyhold and think about their offers in the quiet of my quarters. I think I’m finished with all this attention, the dresses, the flirting.”

All the women looked at each other, utterly gobsmacked.  Josie had to break the silence. “But you _love_ attention, dresses, and flirting.”

“Of course I do, who doesn’t. But _days and days_ of _more_ of this?”

Leliana was now flabbergasted and almost sputtering with disbelief. “Isolde, this is very unlike you. You were looking forward to finding the right man to marry for our cause and here we are laying three of them at your feet. What has changed?”

A voice in Isolde’s head answered with one simple word, but it did not make it past her lips _._

_“Everything.”_

She shook off the memories of Cullen’s lips against her skin, sitting up straighter on the bed.

“ _Nothing._ Nothing has changed, Leliana. My head just hurts. If you insist we stay, I shall listen to you – but with my conditions. Each man is allowed a day in my company, but after dinner I am not to be disturbed. I shall make my decision by breakfast on the fourth day, and we will go home to plan a wedding.”

Josie clapped her hands girlishly while Leliana gave her a pleased smile. Vivienne poured Isolde a glass of wine from a cart near the bed and handed it to her. “Now – the big question is, will you go back to the dance? Or are you using this as an excuse – as Cullen is – to hide away in your room for the rest of the night?”

Josie watched a number of emotions flicker across the Inquisitor’s face before it returned to normal. “Nonsense, I do not hide away, even with a pounding headache. Let me just change my dress and yes, I shall return to the party.”

Isolde opened her wardrobe and looked for a fresh gown. She knew it would easier to concentrate on the Game without Cullen in the room, setting her afire with those golden eyes of his.  


*****

The next day Isolde found herself across a small tea table in a nook of the Winter Palace, watching her first suitor snoring away in his comfy armchair. She and the Comte de Valois had very little in common, what with him being many decades older than her and not currently engaged in a bitter war with a maniacal Vint magister. Their polite, stilted small talk had quickly devolved into sitting in silence, which in turn lead to the man having a bit of a nap, drooling onto his own velvet jacket as his cup of tea turned cold in front of him.

Isolde looked around for a servant or aide, anyone to wake him up so she wouldn’t have to be the one to embarrass him but they had been left alone. She coughed, but that did nothing. She whistled 6 bars of Andraste’s Mabari, but he only snored louder. Finally she dropped a tea spoon onto a saucer with a clatter, and he sat up straight and looked at Isolde with some alarm.

“How long was I asleep, Lady Trevelyan?”  
“Oh, please do not worry, Comte. You only closed your eyes for a moment. Would you like more tea?”

Isolde posed prettily, leaning forward and holding the porcelain tea pot in her gloved hands. The old man yawned and stretched and stood up without much ceremony.

“Shall we go for a ride? A stroll around the grounds?” Isolde’s smile was getting harder and harder to maintain.

“Thank you but I think not. I should attend to some of my affairs. I trust I shall see you at dinner?”  
“Of course, your grace. I hope we can talk more then?”

She watched with alarm as he stifled another yawn before answering. “Yes, yes. I suppose you want to know, ah. How I run my household?”

“I’d like to learn more about you. What kind of – things do you like to do for leisure?”  
  
“Leisure?” The word seemed to confuse him. “I mean, my entire life is one of leisure, my lady.”

He bowed over her hand and turned to leave without further comment. As soon as he was out of sight, Isolde relaxed her posture, slumping back onto the armchair with an unhappy sigh. On cue, Leliana and Josephine almost appeared from nowhere, trying to look nonchalant as they strolled up to her.

Leliana’s face fell when she realized the Inquisitor was alone. “Oh, what happened to Valois? We were hoping to catch you two together.”

“He – went to take a nap, I think. I’m afraid he finds me rather boring. I’m sorry Josie, I’m not sure this one is going to work. Did you even check for a pulse?” Isolde stood up, brushing biscuit crumbs from her dress.

“I apologize, Inquisitor. But I figured we’d start with the least interesting candidate – and work our way up to the good one. Would you like us to walk you to your room, Herald?”

“That sounds perfect, ladies. I could use a little fresh air – before I too retire for a nap. Valois’s yawning is apparently very infectious.”

The three women walked through the ornate palace, choosing to take a short cut through the inner courtyard. As soon as they pushed through a set of large glass doors, they were treated to the sight of Cullen sparring with one of Celene’s chevaliers, a few noblemen and curious palace guards enjoying the display around the square.

Cullen was dressed simply in a linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up, hair disheveled and wild.  He had a free and easy grin on his face as the two men put each other through their paces – lunging, parrying, and answering with counter-attacks with light rapiers and no shields. The masked chevalier was graceful but Cullen had strength and a natural swordsman’s talent on his side. Isolde found herself adding internally - _also, he's bloody handsome, isn't he?_

Leliana, Josie and Isolde stopped near the pack of nobles, the Spymaster addressing a duke she knew personally.

“What goes on here, Lord Gascony?”  
“Oh you know, it started out with a little harmless bragging and has escalated to this rather manly display. We have made it more interesting by taking bets. Ladies, are you interested?”

Isolde looked up in time to see Cullen make quick lunge with his sword that almost knocked his opponent off balance – it made the little crowd cheer with delight.

“I’ll bet you 20 gold crowns my Commander wins, your grace. But I cannot stay to watch the end of the match – so I shall collect my winnings at supper tonight.”

Her confident tone made the man laugh as they shook hands over the bet. Josie and Leliana guided her away through another set of doors back into the palace.

“20 gold crowns, Inquisitor! I hope you won’t be asking us to lend you the money should Cullen lose.”  
“He won’t.”

Isolde got lost in her thoughts as her friends walked with her back to her room. 20 crowns was a small price to pay to maybe force the man to talk to her again. Cullen had been cordial during breakfast, but he had kept his distance. This _would_ _not do_ , Isolde thought. She knew she had a husband to land and an alliance to seal, but she could not stop thinking about their stolen moment in the hedge maze.

_The tiniest taste of him with his guard down had not been enough._   
  


*****

 

Dinner that night was the typical Orlesian affair – course after course until one couldn’t appreciate anything anymore, ending with opulent desserts and the finest brandy. Cullen barely noticed any of it, except for the chocolate cake at the end, which he rather liked. He wanted to go home, back to Skyhold, to his men who were surely slacking without his discipline. He should have protested more yesterday, when Leliana and Josephine insisted he remain with them to present a united front to the court. Josephine had also cajoled him into staying by saying they also “needed his protection.” A ludicrous thought – between their strength, their beauty, and their words, no man could stand a chance against the women of the Inquisition, not to mention they had Dorian and Blackwall with them as well. He wondered for a moment if they were keeping him around just to torture him.

Cullen watched the Inquisitor as much as he could without being obvious. She was bored out of her mind as well, seated next to Valois, the two of them not interacting with each other, choosing to watch other people talk and dance and laugh. Cullen waited – if she gave him the slightest sign to intervene he would do so. He also wanted a chance to give her the gold coins clinking together in his jacket pocket, her winnings from betting on him earlier. She had wagered so much coin on him, and the thought gave him a fluttery feeling in his chest he was not used to.

Cullen was about to give up on speaking to Isolde without a hundred scheming Orlesians watching them when she stood up, playacted being tired to the Comte, and started working her way out of the ball room. It wasn’t easy for her to escape, everyone wanted to exchange a word or two with her, including Leliana and Josephine, who seemed to bog her down with more advice and instructions. He watched her walking away toward the big doors at the end of the hall – and then take a furtive left, stepping toward the large glass doors that opened on the courtyard.

Cullen waited, holding his breath. And there it was – the smallest glance over her shoulder at him. Her face had been indifferent and reserved but it was enough for him. He wove his way through the crowd, being discrete, avoiding the Spymaster and Ambassador. He slipped through the same doors Isolde had used and headed for the gardens. He had a feeling where she was going.

He had to stop himself from sprinting through the courtyard as he encountered a few couples mingling and strolling together. Cullen felt his pulse quickening even as his pride told him to slow down, perhaps she was not seeking what he was. He’d give her the crowns in his pocket and ask about Valois and retire to his room, nothing else.

He took the curving gravel path toward the hedge maze and paused. Isolde was framed perfectly by the arched entrance to the maze, the skirts of her royal blue ball gown rustling around her – waiting for him. Her face was etched with worry which melted away when she saw him. Cullen took a step forward – and then a mischievous grin spread across her face. She turned with a giggle and disappeared into the maze.

_The chase is on._

Cullen dashed after her but she had already taken a few tricky turns, leaving only the intriguing scent of her perfume hanging in the air behind her.

“Isolde…” He called to her, as seductively as possible, hoping it would entice her into stopping.

“Cullen!” Her playful voice sounded so close, he swung around a corner hoping to catch her, but only heard her giggling growing farther away.

Isolde was not making it easy for him. Cullen stopped and took a breath and tried to gather his bearings – and then Isolde skipped right past him, a blur of taffeta, her long black hair slipping loose from its bun. He was on her heels now, savoring every little glance she threw at him over her shoulder, until they ran out of places to run. She turned to face him, out of breath, a blush on her cheeks.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He took three steps to her side, taking one of her gloved hands in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, making her blush even more. Cullen looked down at her, concern in his eyes.

“How…how was Valois today?”  
“Terrible. Sleepy. Boring.”  
“Good, I’m glad. I don’t think I could see you walk that corpse down the aisle. I, I – don’t think I…”

Isolde looked at him expectantly but he could not finish his sentence. Instead scooped her closer with one arm.

“Tell me. Tell me you want to be with me again.”  
Isolde swept a hand through his hair. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night. And I’ve been waiting _for this_ all day.”

Tonight their first kiss was gentle and not angry. His lips parted hers and they tasted each other until Isolde was breathless with longing. Cullen felt her fingers press into his shoulders, trying to draw him even closer.

“I do wish we didn’t have to – do this here again.”  
He cupped her face with his hands. “I promise I will figure something out. For tomorrow night. Or the one after that.”

A sexy smile spread over her face, going straight to his loins. “Oh, have you made plans already?”  
  
Cullen’s undid the ribbons on the front of her dress as he bit her earlobe softly. “If I cannot steal a moment from you every once in a while during this trip, then give me leave to go home, my lady. I shall return to my dull paperwork and think not of your smooth skin pressed against mine – or how hot I made you get, with just my tongue.”

Isolde moaned as she felt his rough fingers massaging her breasts, his thumbs focusing on her nipples. “That reminds me, Commander. I was unable to return the favor last night – and I mean to set this right.”

She slipped out of his arms and down to her knees. Cullen watched with aching anticipation while Isolde drew his hardening manhood out of his breeches, caressing him gently before swiping her tongue around his head and sucking him into her mouth. It made him roll his eyes back in his head, it had been too long since anyone pleasured him this way. Isolde worshiped his cock all over, swiping up and down the shaft, gripping him tightly and pumping him, licking, sucking, sending him into an oblivion of sensation. She delicately dragged her tongue across his sensitive balls as he threaded his fingers through her hair. He forgot where they were. He forgot his name. He only heard the occasional little hum of delight coming from Isolde’s mouth, as she pressed him deeper and deeper into her mouth. 

Finally, he could take no more of her dedicated attention. He pulled her up, crushing her against him again in a passionate kiss. Her eyes were bright and full of anticipation.

“We shall finish what we did not get to finish last night, my lady.”

Their lips met again and Cullen realized he did not know how good it could feel to just kiss someone - he really liked the taste of her, there was sweetness there that had nothing to do with what she had been eating or drinking earlier. He could only hope she liked the way he tasted too, as he kept swirling his tongue against hers, struggling to yank up her skirts. It was now his turn on his knees as he slid her smalls down her legs, flinging them away. He hooked one of her knees over his shoulder, and dove right in, pressing his mouth against her folds, Isolde moaning with abandon.

“Cullen, more, _please_."

Her begging was sweeter than tonight's dessert. Cullen focused on her clit, rolling it around on the tip of his tongue. He circled it firmly, her lusty cries filling the air, before he changed technique, flicking at her center from side to side. The normally aristocratic Lady Trevelyan let loose a long string of swears from her lips as he lapped at softness. Her arousal was all over his face, running down his chin, and she was beginning to grow shaky on the one leg she was standing on. It was time for more -

Cullen stood up and looked around at the corner of the maze they had found themselves in tonight – there was a marble bust on a pedestal in a corner of some long-dead Orlesian king. He scooped up Isolde right under her arse and set her down facing the pedestal. She read his mind, holding on to an edge of it, leaning forward slightly as he pulled up her dress again. The smooth globes of her round arse were revealed to him, and he kneaded them with his hands as he murmured to her, “I do regret I will not be able to watch your face as I make you come, Inquisitor.”

Isolde was in no mood for pre-sex banter, she only whimpered and wiggled her hips at him, ready and waiting. Cullen positioned himself behind her and slid into her at a slow and torturous speed. They groaned together as he pushed forward until Cullen was buried deep inside her. Then he surprised her by pulling all the way out and re-entering her in one confident thrust. The move made her gasp and whine with pleasure.

 _“It isn’t fair!”_  
“What isn’t fair, Isolde?”  
“That you’re _so good_ at this, and you’ve been right under my nose this entire time.”

He only smiled to himself and began to rut into her with purpose, the slapping of his hips against hers filling the air. Cullen reached around and felt for her clit, rubbing her with three insistent fingers – it made her moan louder, and even giggle a little.  Isolde began to push back against him more.

“I’m so close, Cullen. Make me come, make me. Please. _Please._ ”

The Commander let go now, fucking her hard, wanting to possess his Inquisitor, even if only for the next moments. His hand that worked at her clit was now covered with one of her own, and she held on to him as he sent her teetering over the edge of her orgasm. Isolde grew rigid under him as she came, the noise she made was almost a melancholy sigh of relief. Her pussy pulsed around him as Cullen held on to her hips with both hands now, tightening his grip. He coaxed more moans out of her as he rutted into her toward his climax. He came with a sharp shudder and a hiss, spilling all of his built up tension into her.

Cullen took a step back, still breathing heavy while he tucked himself back into his pants. Isolde caught her breath too, tying up the front of her dress before turning back to face him.

“Well, that was – invigorating.”  
“I am glad you found me pleasing, Isolde. My lady.”

Isolde’s face was sated, her eyes a little dreamy, cheeks flushed, and she looked so beautiful standing there, her back against the marble pedestal. Cullen couldn’t help himself, he pulled her toward him for a tender embrace. He heard her emit a little gasp inside his arms before she relaxed and held him back.

“I suppose it is very late now, you should retire for the night. Second suitor tomorrow and what not.”  
“Yes, I suppose so too. Have you seen - my underthings, Commander?”

He let go of her after giving a quick peck on the forehead, and looked around at the grass around them. There they were, her silky smalls, just a few feet away. He gave her a naughty grin before quickly grabbing them before she could.

“Cullen, give them back please!”

He held her underpants high above her head, making her hop for them, and then behind his back, turning around each time she tried to grab for them. Isolde giggled, slapping at him, trying to yank the lacy little garment back from him.

“Cullen! You’re being very immature!”  
  
He kept her smalls clutched in one hand as the playful spirit melted away very quickly.  
“I know, it’s very out of character for me. You make me act this way. I feel –"

Cullen could not continue. The look of romantic hope on her face felt like a heavy punch to his solar plexus. He gave her back her underwear and composed himself before bowing over her hand.

“Good night, Inquisitor. Please sleep well.”  
“Good night, Commander.”

There was a look of disappointment in her eyes as she turned to walk away. “Wait, Isolde!”

Her heart soared as she faced him again. He dug around in a pocket on his regimental coat and extracted a small purse of coins. He pressed it into one of her hands – and then kissed the palm of her other.

“Your winnings from today. I thank you for believing in my skills.”

Isolde wanted to make a jape about his _swordsmanship_ and how she had _firsthand knowledge_ of it now, but she didn’t feel like jesting with him. She only gave him a small smile before she wove her way out of the maze, wondering what he had wanted to say about how he felt earlier. They had gone from adversaries to secret lovers in such short time that she felt very jumbled up inside, and very confused.

She didn't even think to put her smalls back on before heading back to her room. She was too busy feeling more and more petulant about her situation, arguing with herself internally.

_How dare he seduce me, two nights in a row, with more important business at hand?_   
_Oh but I was the one who went out to the maze to entice him._   
_  
Well, fine. I am allowed to have a lover if I so want one - but he should have always kept his feelings to himself._   
_But he did. He did._

Isolde made it back to the part of the palace where she and her friends had taken up a number of rooms in their own hallway. She heard sounds of intimate giggling and foreplay coming from Dorian's room. _Some people have all the luck, don't they_. She felt jealous over Dorian being gleefully ensconced in his own room with his lover, and it made Isolde do something extremely out of character - for her. She hooked her underpants on Cullen's doorknob before heading to her quarters at the end of the hall, slamming the door after her.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Isolde took her time getting ready. Josie and Leliana had promised her that her second suitor would be better than the first one, or at least, more awake, so Vivienne insisted on helping with her hair before making an appearance at breakfast while they debriefed her.

Leliana started. “Roger de Damas is not noble by blood, Celene gave him his title and his lands - but he is one of Orlais’ most influential merchants. He has money from mining, from logging, cotton mills and other trade.”

Josephine fluffed her own hair in the mirror behind Isolde and added, “He’s not as rich as Valois, but he brings a lot of raw materials and business connections to the table. He’s certainly not as old as Valois either. I think you could have him in your back pocket by midnight.”

Isolde had to fight back the urge to respond, “ _Midnight? Better things happen at midnight_ ,” but kept silent as Vivienne twisted her hair into a complicated shape on top of her head.

The three women gave her a spot-check, adjusting her neckline so it was lower, straightening her skirts and fussing over her a little more before they headed to breakfast. They made their way to the hall where food was being served, her friends gossiping away, Isolde walking in silence with her thoughts – until she heard Cullen’s name in their conversation. Isolde kept her face neutral as she interrupted.

“What’s going on with the Commander now? Complaining about something insignificant , I imagine?”  
“It’s actually very amusing, someone left a pair of -  _lady's smalls_ – on his doorknob last night.”

Isolde didn’t have to mask the blush on her cheeks since they all laughed together. “And how is our staunch Messere Rutherford taking this?”  
  
“Strangely enough, he seems rather flattered by it. He claims he will figure out who did this – and make them pay _._ You know how he is!”

Isolde got gooseflesh just thinking about _exactly how he is_ when nobody else was around. She had to steady herself as they entered the dining hall and walked right up to where Cullen was already holding her chair out for her. The two of them were very good at acting like nothing had changed between them. 

“Good morning, Inquisitor.”  
“And how are you, Commander? I hear you have a secret admirer.”  
“Yes, these _Orlesian girls_ are quite forward, aren’t they.”

Isolde was stricken, wondering if Cullen did not realize they were _her_ smalls on his doorknob last night.  She furrowed her brow at him with some annoyance before she sat down – until she felt the merest electric brush of his fingertips against her bare shoulder when he slid her chair closer to the table. It was enough to make her nearly gasp. _Maker’s breath,_ she should be concentrating on Roger de Damas crossing the room to bow over her gloved hand. Before she could cue him to leave, Cullen had slipped away before Damas could speak to her.

“Lady Trevelyan, I look forward to spending the entire day at your side, as your beauty is unrivaled in Celene’s court. Would you like to go for a ride after breakfast?”

Isolde snapped open her fan coquettishly and gave the masked man a big smile. “Yes of course, Lord Damas. That sounds splendid. Just the thing I need to get my mind off my worries.”

…like the young lady her Commander was currently speaking to on the other side of the dining hall.

Everyone knew Cullen was not much for flirtation but there he was, standing near a table heaped with pastries and fruit, telling this pretty admirer a story that was making her actually giggle. Leliana and Josephine nudged each other, having spotted this rare occurrence too.  
  
It was something she fretted over during her entire courtship day with Damas. They went horseback riding, strolled in Celene’s vineyards, played a few rounds of Wicked Grace, and admired the Empress’s art collection – all of this before dinner. It was a marked change from the doddering old man from yesterday but Damas had his faults too – foremost of which was he expected a child from her during their first year of marriage, and she did not have time for such domesticities while Corypheus was still on the march. Worse yet, Damas wanted it to be a boy, and how could she have such control over that?  
  
Damas’ expectations were troubling – as troubling as the thought of Cullen meeting another woman in the hedge maze tonight.

__

Isolde’s anxiety over Cullen bloomed into full blown frustration after dinner. She watched in absolute shock as her Commander led the lovely girl he had been speaking to at breakfast out onto the dance floor. She heard Blackwall’s incredulous voice from somewhere behind her. “I’d never think I’d see the day – when _that man_ would willingly step foot onto an Orlesian dance floor.”

Dorian thought it was rather funny. “Five silver stags he steps right on her foot.”  
“Dorian! Mind your manners,” Leliana told him, even she nodded at him that she’d like to take that bet.

Isolde had a time at dinner to make discreet inquiries about her unexpected rival. Her name was Marianne Belcourt, a cousin of Celene’s, a blonde beauty with a lilting voice and azure blue eyes, described by all as charming and personable. Isolde’s heart clenched as the two of them smiled at each other, each dipping into a little bow before the song began. It was a simple waltz, and Cullen was a little stiff at the beginning, but whatever she was saying to him out there put him at ease. By the end of the song, they were sweeping across the dance floor. Isolde drained her wine glass in one gulp, ignoring Josie’s look of disapproval.

Roger de Damas refilled it for her. “Would you like to dance as well, my lady? I know Valois didn’t even bother yesterday and the court lost out on another opportunity to see your alluring grace and ravishing beauty in action.”

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Roger’s compliments felt forced and she had trouble believing him at times. She responded to him by putting her gloved hand on his arm. “Yes, Roger, I would love that. Let us wait for the next song.”

She did not have time to watch where Cullen and Marianne went after they ended their dance, as Roger was already leading her onto the parquet floor. Their song was a minuet, and Isolde knew they made a lovely picture together, she in her forest green gown, a simple black velvet ribbon tied around her neck instead of a necklace, and Damas making for a graceful partner. She heard the compliments coming from the edges of the dance floor. _Beautiful. So elegant. She is pure magic._ It didn’t matter – _words are wind –_ a popular saying she had heard once in her travels abroad. She did not want pretty words - she needed to get to the hedge maze.  
  
\---

After their dance finished, it took her nearly half an hour to extricate herself from everyone’s attention, pleading for a bit of fresh air on her own. Isolde headed straight for the maze, not caring who saw her tonight.  Isolde worked her way through it methodically, heading east first. She took three turns in the maze and heard a couple talking intimately, along with the telltale sound of the rustle of fabric. She peeked around the corner and saw a man and woman kissing, her hands in his hair. The moonlight was not as strong tonight, and she could not tell if it was Cullen and Marianne. She thought she heard them both speaking in Orlesian so she moved on.

Isolde nearly bumped into two other couples in the maze that night – but her mind was playing tricks on her. _Was it them? How short was she again? What color was she wearing?_ _Am I going mad? Why do I care so much?_  Isolde stormed out of the maze, consoling herself in resignation. _Damas is a fine man, if not on the controlling side. Perhaps over time, he could come to see my point of view, especially about babies and -_

Wrapped up in her thoughts, she collided right into a tall and imposing figure, bouncing off his chest and landing on the grass behind her, right on her bottom.

“Isolde, are you alright?”

She looked up and nearly sobbed with relief. It was Cullen, holding one of his thin post-dinner cigarillos in his hand. He immediately knelt at her side, offering her his hand and helping her to her feet.

“Where were you dashing off to in such a hurry? Back to Damas?”  
“No. I needed some air, it’s very warm in the ballroom tonight.”  
“So you went to the hedge maze.”

He was giving her one of those smoldering looks of his. She smoldered right back at him. “And you were headed there too, I see. Meeting Mademoiselle Belcourt for a tryst? _Well, isn’t she pretty, I’m so happy for you_.”

“Are you jealous, Inquistor?”

The two looked at each other squarely. Isolde found the words leaving her lips before she could control them: “Of course I am jealous. You belong _to me_.”

Her tone lit a fire in his eyes.

Cullen looked around for prying eyes and took a step forward, edging her back toward the maze. “No, we shouldn’t go in there tonight – many others have the same idea as we do.”

“But while you were gallivanting around with Damas, I made a discovery. Quick, follow me.”

He grabbed her by the hand and led her back into the maze, making a left and skimming along its western edge until they hit a corner. Cullen gave her a sly smile and then reached a hand right into the hedge wall, through the thick ivy. She heard a click, and he pushed at it – revealing a small gate that swung open.

“I guess the men who maintain the maze don’t want to have to walk through it all the time.  I was watching them working today, from a window in the second story of the palace.”

Cullen held the gate open for her and they slipped through it. Isolde’s heart pounded as she followed him, realizing she was willing to follow him anywhere – well, except back to the party.

Behind the maze, they took a set of stairs leading to a corner of Celene’s estate. Judging by the dead leaves and cobwebs, this passageway had not been used in a while. He turned to her with a smile and opened the door at the top of the staircase and they found themselves back in the Winter Palace, walking in an empty wing of the castle.

“So you were exploring today, Ser?”  
“Driven mad by your being off with that man. How was he, anyhow?”  
“He would want a boy child from me within our first year of marriage. And what am I supposed to do if my body doesn’t cooperate?”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to glare down at her. “I would rather not think of your body in his bed, my lady. It puts me in an ill humor.”

“Now you know how I felt watching you waltz with _that girl_. You _do_ know those were my smalls on your doorknob this morning and not hers? I was hoping you would cling to them as you pleasured yourself this morning when you thought of me. Did you do this,  _messere?"  
"_ No, why take myself in hand when I could be patient - and have you again tonight, as I know we  _both_ have planned..."

The two were practically panting with desire as they each took a step forward, their lips meeting in an instant. Cullen wound his fingers through her the soft waves of her hair while Isolde’s fingers quickly undid a few of the buttons on his jacket, wanting to feel his muscles under her hands. Cullen had to break the kiss as they heard voices coming from around the corner – a few soldiers on their nightly patrol. He opened a door behind her and they slipped into it quickly, Cullen locking it behind them. The two waited for the footsteps of the guards to grow closer and then fade away before they relaxed.

Isolde looked at the salon they found themselves in. Cullen strode to the windows, pulling back an edge of the curtain so some moonlight could come into the room, revealing the hedge maze below. The usually ornate Orlesian furniture was in storage, covered in grey drop cloths. Something that looked like chaise lounge sat in the middle of the room, next to a very tall object leaning against the wall, also hidden from view.

She approached his side a little shyly. Cullen gave her a confident smile and then grabbed one end of the cloth, yanking it away – revealing a huge mirror, nearly seven feet tall. They stood there together framed in the mirror’s image, and she had a moment to study them as a couple for the first time, to see them as others might see them. He was tall, broad-shouldered and golden, she was petite, tanned and raven haired. They were opposites – and yet, made for each other.

Her mouth fell open as she watched him move to behind her, kissing her on the neck – undoing the black ribbon there, letting it fall to the floor.

“You realize we may take our time tonight, Inquisitor. No one will interrupt us here,” he murmured right into her ear.

His velvet voice gave her gooseflesh, especially as his lips met at the juncture of her neck and her shoulders. She watched him kiss his way across a shoulder – and then bite her lightly there, making her groan. He began undoing the buttons at the back of her gown as he sucked on her earlobe and then her dress fell to her feet. Cullen made eye contact with her in the mirror as he unlaced her corset now, letting it drop away. Her smalls and stockings were next, as he peeled them down her legs, sliding his calloused hands across her thighs and down her calves as she stepped out of all of it, kicking off her satin slippers.

Cullen stood up and she watched as his hands roved over her body, and she thrust her chest forward as he palmed her bared breasts and tweaked her nipples, rolling them between his rough fingers. One hand moved away from her breast and slipped between her folds, already wet with her arousal.

“So perfect. I thought of nothing all day but this – the way you feel.”

Two fingers pressed on either side of her clit and she moaned with abandon as he moved them in a slow circle while continuing to whisper hoarsely in her ear, “I want you to – watch – tonight. Use the mirror.” He spun her around and dipped his mouth to one of her nipples, licking a path around it before drawing it into his mouth. Isolde wove her fingers through his golden locks, watching him in the mirror as he gave her other nipple the same attention, making them grow tight with desire under his attention.

Isolde whimpered as he Cullen stepped away from her for a moment, taking a few steps toward the covered chaise lounge nearby and pulling it closer to the mirror. With another confident yank, he pulled the cloth off the sofa, revealing plush red velvet cushions. Isolde did not need to be prompted, she laid down on the soft fabric and watched him strip out of his formal attire. They never broke eye contact as he stripped off his jacket and cast aside his dress shirt. When he removed his breeches and smalls and his thick cock sprung free, Isolde squirmed and sighed. She sat up and crooked a finger at him, bidding him to come closer.

Now Cullen watched her in the mirror as she gripped his stiff manhood, giving him a few pumps, making moisture appear at the tip of his cock. With a swipe of her tongue, she licked up that droplet of precum and then sucked him deep into her mouth. They moaned in tandem as her head bobbed up and down his shaft, drawing him in as far as he could go. Isolde held on to his hips and pushed him forward, and then pulled him back. Cullen got the picture as he began to fuck her mouth, thrusting in and out of it, enjoying the sight in the mirror. Isolde upped the ante, opening her legs wide so he could see her fingers working at her cunt.

She withdrew from his cock, still pumping him, looking up at him.

“Cullen…”  
“Yes, my lady?”  
“Lie down please. I want to introduce you to a particular style of Orlesian lovemaking that might make you change your mind about these people.”

They switched places on the chaise lounge, Cullen now lying down on the red velvet. Isolde had a moment to admire his hard body on against the rich fabric, a sexy, anticipatory grin on his face.  She straddled him, a knee on either side of his head, lowering her pussy onto his mouth. She heard Cullen groan into her womanhood as she pressed her soft body against his, her mouth seeking his cock again as she crawled forward on the lounge.  Now they could pleasure each other at the same time and they filled the room with the sounds of their ecstasy.

Cullen’s mouth was rapturous, Isolde felt pure euphoria spreading across her limbs as he focused all his attention on her clit. She lost herself in the moment, stealing glances at their wanton state in the mirror, delighting in how her curves melded with his chiseled body.

His cock was absolutely delicious, but Isolde felt her release getting closer. She got off him quickly, and before he could react, she turned around to sit on his face again, this time facing him so she could see his lips and tongue get back to work.

Isolde looked down at him between her thighs, demanding, “Cullen, please, make me come!” She felt him switch tactics, lapping at her cunt in frenetic swipes – and then he sucked her clit between his soft lips. She rode his face, until Isolde saw stars, shuddering all over – her orgasm was so intense it ignited the magic within her and the air around them crackled with static electricity.

Isolde dismounted from him, kneeling on the floor next to the chaise lounge. She looked at Cullen’s shocked face and realized her magic might have scared him a little.

“Are you alright? Did I frighten you?” Before he could respond, her concern quickly turned to giggling.  
“And what is so funny?”  
“Your hair! My magic must have –“

Cullen sat up and looked at himself in the mirror. Isolde’s powerful burst of orgasmic electricity had turned his hair back to its natural curly state.

“Maker’s breath!” Isolde watched his face flush with embarrassment as he tried to smooth his hair back into place.

“Stop laughing, woman!”  
“You are ridiculously adorable, Commander!”  
“I – am not – adorable.”  
“Yes you are, because I say so!”

Cullen growled at her, grabbing her around the waist and pushing her back down onto the lounge under him, kissing her silent, making her moan again. Isolde spread her legs for him and he slid his cock into her in one torturous thrust. She wrapped her legs around him, pressing her heels into the small of his back as he made love to her languidly, leisurely, rolling his hips into her.

“Watch, Isolde. Look at yourself, look how gorgeous you are as you take my cock.”

She looked in the mirror as Cullen dipped his head to suck at a nipple again. _He_ was the one that was gorgeous, all that warrior muscle, lean and strong and so very masculine. He held her legs open wide so he could see her cunt taking all of him, while he rubbed at her pearl again. He was going to make her come once more, and she was back to begging him for it. “Please Cullen, harder – faster.”

Cullen made her gasp in surprise as he scooped her up off the sofa, keeping his cock deep within her. She held on to his neck as he rutted her standing up, filling the air with her cries and the slap of their skin against each other.

“Look – look at yourself, Isolde. You’re like a _bitch in heat_.” His rough words set her on fire, his cock was hitting a spot deep inside her that made her hum with ecstasy. She kept eye contact with him in the mirror until he changed positions, sitting down on the chaise again so he was sitting up and she was straddling him.  He kept his forehead pressed to hers as they panted and moaned together. Isolde gave up watching their lovemaking in the mirror and concentrated on him, on his face, those amber eyes she had come to obsess about in just a few days. She kissed him hungrily, the salty-sweet taste of her cunt still on his lips.

“I’m so close, Cullen – come with me, please!”  
  
Cullen grunted as she rode him harder, her hips moving more deliriously as she felt his staff grow so hot and even harder inside her. Isolde bounced on him with gusto, until felt him explode, his cock jerking as he spilled his seed. The sheer look of relief and release on his face made her hit the apex of her pleasure too, gasping and growing stiff in his arms, squeezing his shoulders hard. She melted into his arms with a sigh. And then she murmured something against his neck, something she could not take back once she said it - “ _Oh Maker, I think I love you_.”

Cullen pushed her up to sitting, his hands cupping her face. “What…did you just say?”

“I’m sorry, I…”

Isolde couldn’t look at him now. She got off his lap and started collecting her clothes. “We should get back to the party. I don’t want to hear another lecture from Leliana or Josephine about my manners.”

Cullen took three steps forward and grabbed her by a wrist, making her drop her corset. “Please – tell me what you said.”

“I - didn’t say anything.”

Cullen looked disappointed, but he did not let her reticence affect him for long.  He let go of where he had been gripping her wrist, turning it gently toward him and placing the softest kiss against her pulse. It made her sigh – she never had any idea that the man who had stood by her side in the war room, with his stiff posture and stern words could be so passionate and romantic. Isolde took her other hand and raked it through his hair, applying just the lightest touch of electricity, smoothing out his curls so his hair looked the way he usually liked it to look. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled.

“Oh thank you. That makes me feel less ridiculous.”

They got dressed in silence, Cullen stopping to help her with her corset, kissing her on her shoulder blades before he gave her stays a good hard yank, making her squeak and giggle. Once they were about to leave, Cullen spotted her simple black velvet ribbon still lying on the floor.

“My lady, your ribbon.”  
“Keep it, Cullen. A memento of tonight.”

He looked into her eyes as he gave it a little peck before sliding it into his pocket. “Oh, do cease the romantic gestures, or I shall have to make you fuck me _hard_ once again.” Her words made him quirk an irresistible smile at him, and she  _did_ consider disrobing to ride him a third time.

They straightened out their clothes once more before leaving their meeting place, winding their way back to the secret door in the hedge maze. Cullen offered Isolde his arm as they walked together, almost formally, despite what they had just been doing together.

“Commander, you know that I’ve always placed the Inquisition’s needs above mine.”  
“I do, my lady. It is one of the – truly important things – we have in common.”

They made their way back to the garden, where many people had gathered and the pair blended in with the crowd. Celene was putting on a fireworks display for them tonight. Isolde continued her thoughts, speaking low enough for only Cullen to hear.

“After I have met my third and final suitor tomorrow, I shall make my decision to cement our alliance with Orlais.”  
“Yes, Inquisitor.”  
“I shall do this – regardless of my feelings for you.”

The sky lit up with blue and purple and red sparks above them. Cullen saw Isolde’s face in the lovely light. Cullen knew then he had not misheard her earlier - Isolde had indeed said she loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I figured they couldn't bone EVERY night in the Hedge Maze, so I changed it up. Outdoor sex is quite a zesty enterprise though, I do highly recommend it.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry there's so much story before the smut arrives.)

Isolde woke up the next morning feeling nervous. Josephine and Leliana had saved the best suitor for last, and despite what had been happening with Cullen the last few nights, she felt excited to meet this man. Isolde curled her hair while they told her about him. Their enthusiasm was contagious.

“Laval is young!” Leliana spritzed her with perfume, and helped herself to a bit of it too.  
“And very well bred – the eldest son of an Orlesian duke. Educated, impeccable manners, posture, diction,” Josie added.

Isolde twirled another lock of hair around a finger, using her magic to curl it into place. She gave her Ambassador a smirk in the mirror. “Diction has never ranked high in my estimation when it comes to men. Tell me something good.”

“He has been known to discard The Game entirely – and often prefers to go without a mask. And he is actually handsome.”

Josie yanked on Isolde’s sleeves a little, showing off a little more of her brown shoulders. “We do hope you’ll like Charles Laval. Gold mines, Inquisitor. Adamantium. Everite. Obsidian. Charles kicks the ground with the toe of his boot and wonders spring to the surface.”

Isolde raised an eyebrow at Josephine’s passionate tone. “Alright, I get it, I’ll be extra charming today.”

Leliana gave her a stern look in the mirror. “Isolde – you do understand that this is _your_ decision to make. We will not force you to do anything against your will – and you can choose freely.”

Isolde’s thoughts flew straight to Cullen, and the bliss she had just discovered in his arms. Charles was going to have to be a prince out of a storybook to beat that man, she mused to herself as they headed to Celene’s dining hall for breakfast.

___

  
The Commander watched Isolde make her way across the room, waiting for her behind her empty chair as he had the last few days. As she entered the dining hall, a ripple of anticipation spread through the Orlesian nobles. The Inquisitor was lovelier this morning than she had been during their entire stay in the Winter Palace, clad in a dusky rose velvet gown in a simple Fereldan style, a glimmering opal sitting between her clavicles.

_Where he had kissed her, where he had tasted the sweat from their lovemaking._

Cullen’s pulse quickened as she drew closer, but then her path to him was interrupted. Someone was bringing Isolde’s last suitor over to him, and Cullen was surprised to see the young man wore no mask. He was red-headed and pale, elegant and handsome. Isolde blushed as the aristocratic young man bowed over her hand and Cullen felt his heart hit the floor. Charles Laval led her to a table on the other side of the room, separating her from her Inquisition friends.

Cullen sat down in the chair he had been holding out for her and began putting breakfast on his plate in an attempt think of something else. Dorian watched Isolde meeting Laval’s parents.

“Well, the new one is certainly – very handsome.”

Cullen made an impatient gesture at him to pass the butter for his breakfast roll. “Is he now.”

Dorian didn’t pass the butter, he was still staring at Laval. “I – think I know the man.”

Cullen stopped fussing over his food and looked at Dorian, who continued to study Isolde’s new beau. “Are you sure?”

Leliana passed by behind them and the two men knew to stop talking. Dorian waited until Leliana was speaking to a countess before continuing. “Well, it’s hard to tell who’s who inside that hedge maze - especially if the moon is behind the clouds.”

Cullen burst out laughing, he couldn’t help himself. “Are you being serious? But why wouldn’t you recognize him, he’s one of the few mask-less fools in this entire kingdom.”

Dorian finally gave him the butter with a pout. “Well, at the time he _was_ masked, which is why I _can’t_ be sure it was him. It’s just - a feeling I have.”

Blackwall interrupted their conversation, sitting down on Cullen’s right with a bored huff.

“Listen Commander, I heard Vivienne saying she was tired of being cooped up in this palace. First of all, just listen to that sentence - this place has 400 rooms and _she_ feels cooped up here. She’s going into Val Royeaux for a spot of shopping and I say we accompany her – for a spot of drinking.”

Cullen looked across the room at Isolde and Charles Laval getting to know each other. He hung on her animated gestures, he guessed Isolde was regaling him with one of her Inquisition adventures, and the young man shook his head at her in wonder as she continued.

“Blackwall, that is a splendid idea. A flagon of ale in a proper pub away from all this – frippery – would do wonders for the soul. Dorian, care to join us?”

A svelte chevalier in very tight pants walked right past Dorian, making lingering eye contact with him. Dorian watched the man glide away. “Ah, no Commander. I believe I will stay. I rather enjoy being ‘cooped up’ around here.”

Dorian took a pointed sip of his tea before speaking again. “Besides, I can keep an eye on this Charles and Isolde situation for you, as I also have a bit of interest in what happens.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes at the mage. “You seem to be insinuating that _I_ have interest in the Inquisitor’s personal affairs.”

“Oh, do drop the act, Cullen. You’re as transparent as a wink in a Tevinter bathhouse.”  
“You don’t have to act around us, Cullen. We’re not Josie or Leliana, we can’t _use_ this information to our advantage,” Blackwall said with a chuckle.  
“Except to tease you relentlessly, of course,” Dorian purred, dabbing at a corner of his mouth with a napkin.

Blackwall gave Cullen’s arm a little tug before he could respond. “Come on, Commander, let’s get out of here. This entire palace makes me feel – itchy.”

Cullen did not give Isolde a second look. It was time for him to disengage, gain some distance between himself and his own feelings. He could do it – a drink or two – or four – or seven, was always a good start.

  
___

Isolde had a moment to change after breakfast, before beginning her day with Laval. He was very promising, sweet and rather attentive. She put on riding outfit and met him down in the courtyard, where he had two horses saddled for them. He gave her a courtly bow over her hand.

“My lady, I wanted to give you a treat today – a break from the Winter Palace. We can get to know each other on the way. Then I was hoping… you’d indulge my curiosity a little.”

She looked at him, hoping there’d be a flirtatious smile on his face to go with that last comment, but he only looked at her with simple questioning in his eyes. Isolde smiled back at him, reminding herself, _not everyone’s trying to get into your smalls, Trevelyan. He’s a well-bred boy of – wait, how old did they say he was?_

Charles dismounted and helped her down from her horse before tying their mounts to a low branch. He turned to her with an expectant smile. “Now that we’re far away enough from the Palace – will you show me your magic? I’ve never _seen_ anyone do magic before, well beyond a few sparks to light fires or candles, but – I’ve never seen anyone conjure lightning.”

Isolde was conflicted about this – her time in Ostwick’s Circle had taught her to feel shame about her gift, a shame she was only now getting over as leader of the Inquisition. But she also didn’t think of her magic as a parlor trick.

“Charles, I –“  
“Oh, please please please, Lady Trevelyan? Your friend Dorian refused. Said something about how he needed a few dead bodies to make it interesting. Is that true, can he make the dead walk again?”

She closed her eyes with some annoyance at his childish tone, and then made a gesture at him to stay where he was. She walked away from Laval, heading for a nearby field. Isolde headed out into the middle of the field and raised a hand, conjuring a crack of lightning from the heavens, burning a perfect circle around her. Charles whooped and hollered, yelling toward her, “Again please!”

Isolde sighed. This was not how she thought the day would go.

After a few more displays of crackling electricity and magic, Isolde persuaded Charles to unpack the picnic they had carried with them, opening a bottle of wine and sharing some cheese and fruit. They laid down on a blanket under the oak tree in silence, until Isolde’s own curiosity got the best of her.

“Charles. Feel free to – well. You can say no, if you want. But – I feel like I would like to kiss you right now.”  
“Oh.”

She turned onto her side to look at him, hearing the nervousness in his voice. He was definitely handsome, and charming, but Isolde still had one doubt in her mind. She wanted to make sure _he wanted her enough_.

“It’s just that – if we are to be married…if I decide to accept your offer…”

Charles sat up and looked at her with great seriousness. “I understand, my lady.”

Isolde sat up too, scrambling to her knees to be closer to him. She tilted her face towards his and he gave her a close-mouthed kiss, gentle enough, but rather chaste.

She pulled back and looked at him. The expression on his face was a little unreadable, but she detected a hint of terror in his eyes. Isolde decided to take control, leaning in again, kissing him deeper, trying to get him to move his lips. She nipped at his mouth with her tongue, slipping a hand under his jacket to hold on to his shoulder. Isolde pushed him down onto the blanket, half lying on him, still trying to kiss him, when finally he sputtered, sitting up and pushing her away. “Lady Trevelyan, I think - I think that is enough for now.”

She sat back, incredibly embarrassed. “Charles, are you going to tell your mother about this?”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to, trust me.”  
“I’m sorry, I’m not usually so aggressive. It’s just that, I like you, Charles. You seem – very kind. You would be kind to me, should we marry, yes?”

Isolde watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, removing her kisses. It stung a little more than she expected it to, but Charles was all sincerity now. “I would be nothing but kind to you, Isolde. And I want nothing more than to marry you.”

Isolde prompted him further. “And not just because your mother and father would desire our match?”  
“No. Not just because my mother and father would desire it.”

Charles seemed to be repeating what she wanted him to say. Isolde smoothed down her hair and looked at him. “I would like to back to the Palace now, your grace.”

The young duke seemed to intuit their date had gone poorly. He packed up their picnic in silence and helped Isolde onto her horse. As they neared the gates of the Palace, Charles found his nerve again.

“Lady Trevelyan, did I do something wrong?”  
“Not at all, Charles.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him it was the things he didn’t do that she found disappointing.

___

On their last night at the Winter Palace, Isolde wore a bloodstone-red gown, trimmed with gold embroidery, one of her finest garments, intended to stun and seduce. Vivienne, Josephine and Leliana were waiting at her door to escort her to dinner. Once they arrived in the dining hall, Isolde was upset when Cullen was not waiting behind her chair, holding it out for her like he always did.

“Where is the Commander? And Blackwall, for that matter?”  
Vivienne made a sound of irritation. “They stayed behind in Val Royeaux, and they were quite soused when I left them.” She whispered the next part. “I suspect they were headed to a brothel next.”

Dorian watched Isolde’s eyes narrow in anger and knew he had to diffuse the situation. “Isolde, you look absolutely ravishing tonight. Laval won’t know what hit him.”

“Oh, he won’t know. Leliana – and how old did you say he was again?”

Leliana did not make eye contact with her as she answered, only focused on the _sole meuniere_ on her plate, “21, I believe. 22, next Drakonis. And what’s wrong with _a little young_ , to begin with? You were not interested in _too old_ if I remember correctly.”

“Twenty-one! Ten years younger than me, Leliana! He’d make do for Dorian though, I know your tastes, cousin.”  
Dorian nudged her hard and she nudged him back. He was about to nudge her again when Laval himself approached her corner of their table.

“Lady Trevelyan, I came to make sure you would save your first dance for me.”  
She watched him bow over her hand with a little disinterest. “Of course, Charles. And you know, Ser Pavus of course. But did you know this, Charles? He is my distant cousin, so if I make my decision in your favor tomorrow, he will be your cousin too.”

He stood up and looked at the mage sitting next to her, blushing now. “Oh, I would like that very much.”  
  
“That’s a rather odd thing to say, don’t you think?” Dorian held up a hand, covering up the young man’s upper part of his face, looking at him closely. Isolde gave him a funny look before pulling his arm down. “I will see you after dessert, Charles.”

Laval gave Dorian one more look before turning to walk back to where his parents were seated. Isolde gripped Dorian’s thigh under the table, rather painfully. “And what was all _that_ about? Why were you looking at him that way?”

“I just – I can’t shake this feeling I’ve met him before somewhere.”  
“Somewhere _where_?”  
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Isolde. Finish your first course. They’ll be bringing the filet mignon around next I hope.”

Isolde watched Dorian digging into his dinner, but he still had that furrow in his brow that meant he was still thinking about Charles. She looked over at Cullen’s empty chair, wondering if he would rendezvous with her tonight one last time, or if she only had an eternity of Charles’ cold kisses to look forward to.

__

The Inquisitor found herself dancing with a multitude of people after dinner, male and female, young and old. She was beginning to suspect the Orlesians were betting on whose marriage proposal she was going to accept and they were trying to ascertain who was in the lead. She kept her opinions to herself, and an eye out for Cullen’s return.

When she was able to tear herself away from the dance floor, Isolde headed for the hedge maze, hoping the Commander was waiting for her there. She meandered the green aisles, coming to dead ends and having to trace her way back. While she lost herself in the maze, she thought about her options. _Too old, too domineering, too young_. _Titled, monied, well-bred_. All well-connected – and none of them inspiring even the tiniest flame of passion in her veins.

Isolde was just about to wander her way back to the entrance of the maze when she heard playful murmuring coming from around a corner. Curiosity made her take a few steps forward for a closer listen – two _male_ voices this time. A sly grin crept across her face – it was Dorian, in the middle of a tryst. _Oh, I should interrupt, pay him back for the thousands of sassy remarks he’s made he’s made on this trip alone._

And then, she recognized the second voice.

Isolde swung around the corner to find Charles Laval kneeling at Dorian’s feet, working on what she could only describe as “a mouthful of Pavus.” Her shock quickly turned to mirth – and relief – as Isolde’s ebullient laughter interrupted them.

Charles sprung to his feet while Dorian turned around with a gasp, covering himself up.

“Oh! I saw it! I saw Dorian’s – _other staff!_ ”  
“DO stop laughing, Isolde! You’re a terrible, terrible, _terrible_ woman!”

Charles was half-hiding behind a nearby marble statue, watching Isolde giggling so hard her eyes were watering.

“Lady Trevelyan – you’re…you’re not mad about this?”  
She approached him, holding her two hands out in a conciliatory gesture. “My darling Charles, I am not the least bit upset and it certainly explains why you were having trouble kissing me back earlier today.”

Dorian tucked himself back into his breeches, turning back to face them now. “You two were kissing earlier?!”

“She kissed me, I didn’t ask for it. And she’s right, I didn’t like it.”

This comment made Isolde begin another round of gleeful snorting and Dorian take a few steps forward to scare her off.

“Get out of here, Isolde! You’re ruining my night with your – your – wandering around looking for _Cullen_ , yes I know that’s what you’ve been doing!”  
“Alright, alright, I’m going. Gentlemen – do continue without me.”

She gave them a bow which only made Dorian make a rude gesture at her. Isolde giggled again as she backed away from them, making her retreat. She heard Charles’s voice one ask her one last question: “You won’t tell my mother, will you?”

“I won’t, Charles, for fear she would send Dorian to the gallows for corruption of a minor.”

Isolde also heard Dorian ask one last question. “But you’re _not_ a minor, right?”

___

  
Cullen and Blackwall had purposely timed their return so as to miss dinner, dancing, and any other planned festivities the two warriors had no interest in. This meant they were stumbling through the Palace hallways at nearly 3 bells in the morning. Cullen kicked off his boots as soon as he was in his room, fumbling in his jacket pockets for a match to light a candle.

He heard someone snap their fingers and the fire came roaring to life nearby. Isolde was lying in his bed, waiting for him.

“Hello. And where have you been.”  
“Maker’s breath, Isolde, you scared me!”  
“Late night – at one of Val Royeaux’s more affordable brothels?”

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, surveying the surprise in his bed. “I don’t like the insinuation that I’d be cheap, if I – needed to pay for it.”

He took off his jacket, hanging it up properly, trying to still his racing pulse and appear calm – and not incredibly aroused already. “And we did not go to a brothel, my lady, no.”

Cullen took the end of the bed’s coverlet and pulled on it slowly – revealing her naked body to him, inch by inch. He dropped the blanket to the floor, feasting his gaze on her curves. Cullen’s face was equal parts defeat, longing and lust.

“I went to Val Royeaux to try to forget about you, Isolde, even if for just a day. I thought drink would help me make it hurt a little less – when you choose Laval tomorrow.”

Isolde crawled toward him to the edge of the bed, a pleading look on her face.

“Convince me, Cullen. Convince me not to choose him.”

He did not hesitate, a hand darting to the back of her head to bring her closer, pressing his lips to hers. They devoured each other, Cullen’s hands sweeping down her back to the small of her back, his fingers pressing into the soft mounds of her arse. His tongue danced around hers, as she grabbed two handfuls of his shirt to pull it over his head and cast it aside.

Cullen unbuckled his belt and got out of his breeches and smalls as fast as he could before spreading himself over to continue kissing her. She smiled against his mouth and he pulled back to look at her as she spread her arms wide on the bed, sweeping them around.

“It’s nice.”  
“What is?”  
“Being in a bed with you finally.”  
“Get comfortable, Inquisitor. Now that I have you here, I do not intend to let you go so easily.”

Cullen lowered a head to draw one nipple into his mouth, circling the tip of his tongue around the sensitive bud. He repeated this until Isolde could take no more and moved his head to the other, keeping her fingers knotted in his curls. He teased and pleased her breasts until Isolde had to push him away, guiding him down to where she really wanted him to be. Cullen pulled her legs wide open and pressed her knees back, so that her cunt was open and exposed to him.

“Have you been waiting long for me, Lady Trevelyan?”  
“Hours.”

He sucked her pearl between his lips, making her arch her back hard, pushing her head into bed.

“You’re _wet_ already, Isolde. Did you keep yourself busy while you waited?”

He heard her swear to herself quietly, followed by nervous, aroused laughter. Cullen lapped at her clit again, wiping the giggle away and turning it into a serious groan of pleasure – and then he stopped, much too abruptly.

“You didn’t answer me, Isolde. What did you do while you waited for me, show me – or I won’t continue.”

She raised her head to look at his face to judge how serious the threat was, but the Commander only glared back at her in impatience. Cullen watched from his belly as one hand ghosted across her tight nipples and the other hand moved toward her pussy. Cullen then sat back on his heels, pumping his aching cock –he wanted to observe this spectacle. Isolde had been on display for days, but this moment – was only for him.

Isolde used three fingers to touch herself, tentative at first. Her eyes fluttered open to watch Cullen pleasing himself, his eyes never leaving her quim. Her hand started to move faster, her breath turning from sighs into desperate panting.

“Cullen, please!”  
He only shook his head at her in denial, stroking himself indulgently, getting harder and harder. Isolde’s fingers worked her clit even faster, the sticky sound of her own arousal making Cullen moan now too. She dipped a finger into her own depths, pulling it out to circle her clit again. She made Cullen hiss in approval as she slid two fingers into herself next.

“This is what I did, Cullen, while I waited for you. I did this – “

She flicked her fingers harder, faster. He watched in utter fascination as a blush spread all over her body and her hand that had been touching her breasts lightly now tweaked the nipples, twisting them. She was close to her release, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh fuck, Cullen, I’m going to – “

Isolde twitched and shuddered, writhing on the ivory sheets beneath her as she came hard, crying out a plaintive wail. She went from rigid to limp, her hands falling at her sides. Isolde opened her eyes and looked at Cullen, who was still staring at her, mouth a little agape.

“Mmmm. That was incredible. And you didn’t even touch me.”

Cullen had to swallow a few times before speaking – the sight of Isolde bringing herself to orgasm left him dry-mouthed. “I intend to remedy the situation immediately, my lady.”

He crawled over her again, cock in hand, thrusting into her gently, and as deeply as he could. He dipped his head to lick at the sweat on her neck as he rolled his hips against her. Cullen pinned her to the mattress, holding her down by the wrists so he could stare into her eyes as he took her. She moaned in response as he gave her a little series of sharp thrusts.

Isolde bit her lip, giving him a coy look. “During my quieter moments in the last few days, I’ve had a chance or two to slip away to Morrigan’s private library for a little study of the arcane.”

Cullen gave her a curious look even as he continued working his manhood in and out of her.

“Can I try something I learned? It’s – magic – so I understand if you are not interested. It’s just that – “

She purred the next part. “ – I learned it for you.”

It made Cullen inhale sharply as he pushed his cock all the way into her. “Alright, Isolde. Show me.”

He stayed buried deep in her pussy as he watched her eyes close and she grew still, concentrating. He still had her wrists clasped above her head on the bed – when he felt a second set of phantom hands sweep down his back, giving him gooseflesh.

“Isolde!”

“Shhhh.”

He felt the magic hands rubbing the knots in his shoulders before they headed south again, squeezing his tight arse, kneading his muscles there.

“How’s that?”

Cullen’s head dropped forward with a groan. She laughed to herself, continuing to explore his body with her new spell.

“I didn’t say you could stop rutting me, Cullen.”

His hips came back to life, although now his eyes were glazed over with lust, lost in the new sensations she was coaxing out of him. Cullen kept diving deep inside her and had to will himself to concentrate as he felt one of those magic hands lightly caressing his sensitive ball sack.

“Isolde, you are going to kill me tonight…”

She laughed, making an obscene gesture at him with just her tongue. And then he felt one of her magic fingers – now wet from her saliva - pressing against his – other entrance.

“Isolde!”  
“Relax please. I’m just following the instructions that came with the spell.”

He rolled his hips against hers and whined as the finger breached him a little more.

“Does it feel good?”  
“A little…”  
“Then keep fucking me, you fool.”

He refocused on her face, sweat rolling down his body now. One of Isolde’s spell hands kept stimulating his balls while the second finger kept exploring him gently. She found a spot deep inside him that had never been touched before and Cullen hissed and swore into her ear.

“Fuck! Oh Maker, that’s incredible, Isolde, press there, right there.”

The sound of his skin against hers filled the air, her groans answered by his moans. If Blackwell was still awake across the hall, he certainly could hear them. Cullen’s thrusts grew more erratic and insistent. He finally let go of her wrists, grabbing her behind the knees, maneuvering her into a tight shape that allowed him thrust his cock into her even deeper. The new angle made Isolde begin almost howling again – his staff was finding a spot inside of her too that was pushing her closer to release. She was chanting only three words at him, their eyes locked together – “Maker. Cullen. _Please.”_

Isolde’s magic kept pressing on his prostate and he could hold on no longer - Cullen came inside her with a long, sustained moan. He had never climaxed so hard, and even as he withdrew from her, he was still spurting seed, dripping it all over her cunt. He watched with total awe as more leaked out of her, her pussy still pulsing from her intense release. A wild lust was still creeping all over his body and he found himself back between her legs again, tasting the mixture of their arousal.

“Cullen, no! It’s too much, I can’t – I can’t -”

His rough hands grabbed her by the hips and held her down as he lapped at her again, drinking down his own spent and her sweetness that kept flooding his mouth every time his tongue circled her swollen, overstimulated clit.

“I can’t, please, I can’t…” She was almost sobbing now.

Cullen pressed his face hard against her pussy and shook his head, sliding two insistent fingers into her as far as they could go and working them in and out. Isolde grabbed two handfuls of the sheets next to her, squirming away from him, but Cullen pursued her, all the way to the headboard, licking at her with more fervor than he had demonstrated that night. He paused, looking up at her, his fingers still at work.

“Show me, Isolde. Come for me again – and show me your magic.”

Isolde realized it was the second time that day someone had asked her to do this, although under different circumstances, with a different man who burned for her. Cullen dipped down between her thighs to suck her clit between his lips again, and Isolde had no choice but to let go, letting another orgasm scorch through her. She threw her head back and emitted a long, exquisite moan – that culminated in a massive thunderclap over the Winter Palace, followed by a lightning bolt that lit up the sky. Isolde melted against the soft feather bed and Cullen looked toward the windows behind them. It was lightly raining.

Cullen crawled toward her on the bed, cradling her in his arms, listening to the sound of the small storm Isolde had conjured with all the nerves in her body.

“Will it rain for long?”  
“No, it will probably stop soon – and everyone in the Palace will think it was a dream.”

“Isolde Trevelyan, you are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known.”

She laid in his arms, listening to him drift off to sleep, letting his simple words shimmer all over her.

___

 

Isolde was awakened a few hours later by the sound of her Spymaster clearing her throat. Her eyes flicked open to find Leliana and Josephine at the foot of the bed, both of them glaring at her with arms crossed. Cullen still had his eyes closed and an arm wrapped protectively around her, but he was slowly waking up. He hummed to himself with approval, giving her shoulder a sweet kiss.

“Good morning, Isolde. What time is it?”  
“Cullen…”

He kissed her across her shoulder, up her neck, biting her earlobe. Isolde felt his other hand travelling down her side to her hip, to cup her womanhood.

“I wonder what’s for breakfast do you think?”

Isolde blushed as Cullen’s fingers grew a little more curious. “I can think of one thing I’d like to eat right now.”

Leliana could take no more. “Inquisitor! Commander! Please do… actually don’t – don’t do whatever you were about to start doing.”

Cullen sat up – and then seeing who was in his room at the moment – sunk back down under the sheets. “Oh Maker.”

Josephine threw her hands up in frustration. “I knew this was going to happen!”  
“What do you mean, _you knew this was going to happen_ ,” the Spymaster sputtered in disbelief.  
“I caught them together a few nights ago in the Hedge Maze. _Cullen_ assured it was nothing but clearly it was not.”

Isolde pulled back a corner of the sheet to see Cullen blushing like a schoolgirl, shaking his head at her. It made her break into a spontaneous peal of laughter – which ended when Leliana snapped at her again, “Inquisitor! Please concentrate.”

She made herself stop snorting, composing her face as though they were all standing around the war table.

“Have you made your decision? Who will you marry?”

She felt Cullen grow very still under the sheet next to her. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. “I choose him.”

Leliana and Josie looked at each other, puzzled. Leliana inquired further, “Him… Who?”

“I choose, the Commander. Ser Rutherford, of Honnleath? You know - Cullen?”

Cullen sat up now, not ashamed anymore. “What? Isolde, have you – gone mad?”  
  
Isolde was serious now. “I don’t see what’s so silly about this. For the last three days I’ve been courted by many different men, and one stood out from the others. And it was him. End of story.”

Leliana and Josie looked like Isolde had hit them with a thousand bolts of her electricity. Cullen stared at the Inquisitor, his amber eyes stormy with emotion.

“Isolde – are you asking me to marry you?”  
Isolde tucked the sheet around her a little more, a stubborn quirk on at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, of course. How can I be clearer? If you are uncomfortable with the idea of us returning to Skyhold to marry, we can agree upon a courtship of a certain length – and then marry when you are ready. And only when you are ready, Commander.”

Cullen’s mouth opened and closed, unable to form any words. All three women stared at him. The Spymaster had to break the awkward silence.

“Well, Cullen? Do you accept?”  
“Yes. I – accept your offer, Isolde.”

She jumped on top of him with a satisfied yelp, pressing her lips to his. Their kiss immediately grew deeper, neither of them caring they still had an audience. Cullen pulled himself on top of the Inquisitor, effectively ending the conversation and Josie and Leliana exited the room before they had to see more.  
  
\---

Out in the hallway, Josie had to almost run to keep up with Leliana’s businesslike pace. The Ambassador was worried she was in trouble too, knowing her friend never liked it when there were secrets afoot she was not privy too. Josie had to say something to break her bad mood.

“I don’t even know why we bother, Sister Leliana.”

The statement made the woman stop in her tracks and look at the Ambassador. Josie watched in shock - and relief - as the Spymaster began to laugh. “I don’t know either!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, hopefully that ending wasn't too cheesy for you. Sometimes you need a nice dose of smut and cheese. Smutty cheese - although that's more Alistair's thing, isn't it?


End file.
